Webs of Entanglement
by Mrs.POTO
Summary: One second: the time it takes to blink an eye, to say something you regret or hold in something you will regret not saying. Often, these seconds are the reactants of an unwanted destiny, the product: an appearance of doom. Rarely are we lucky in these judgment lacking seconds, but sometimes we are. Peter Parker/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hello and welcome to my first ever Spider-Man story! I have never read the comics, but I've always been a fan of the Sam Raimi trilogy and now the Amazing Spider-Man movies with Andrew Garfield. This story will be based on TASM universe and will feature a Peter Parker/OC relationship. I love Gwen Stacy with Peter, but due to her unfortunate fate shown in the second movie (yikes if you don't already know!), I wanted to create someone else for Peter from the beginning so that Gwen will live, and my original character will have a fate of her own. So, on with the story!**

* * *

One second: the time it takes to blink an eye, to say something you regret or hold in something you will regret not saying.  
In one second, one faulty absence of attention can result in a car accident, an accident that can leave its victims paralyzed forever or worse.  
In one second, a moment can go from bad to worse or can drastically improve by.  
Sometimes, all it takes is a second for someone to realize their love or hate for another.  
A quick decision made in one second or a seemingly coincidental act of fate called upon by the gods can change the currently known world.  
Often, these seconds are the reactants of an unwanted destiny, the product an appearance of doom.  
Rarely are we lucky in these judgment lacking seconds, but sometimes we are.  
Sometimes we are very lucky.

* * *

Attempting to locate my first period class and quickly memorize my schedule along with the Midtown High School campus, I stared down at the paper map of the school along with the schedule of each of my classes for the semester. Luckily, I had found my locker, but compared to the school at home - my old home that is - Midtown was an entire city itself. The move from such a small Florida town to New York City was difficult enough without having to attempt making new friends my junior year; luckily, it was the first day of school for everyone and not the middle of the semester.  
Students scrambled by in groups of two or three: girls discussing the random, yet predictable, topics of makeup, grades, boys, and their social lives. Boys flew by in a rage of laughter, pushing each other into lockers and disrupting passing students; however, most bodies walked in a crowded mass to their designated classroom.  
After determining that my first class was Physics, which was in room 316, two halls over, I stuffed the schedule and map into my bag and turned to close my practically empty locker.

"Whoa!" an unsteady voice shouted from a few feet down the hall.

"Watch out, it's Parker!" a deeper voice announced sarcastically, chuckling to himself.

Turning to see what the commotion was, I was knocked to the ground by an unknown assailant on a skateboard. The quick glimpse of his face that I was able to see before hitting the lockers and then the floor must have resembled the shock plastered on my own as his body collided violently with mine and his board slipped from underneath him. As I was helped up by the skateboarder himself, it was clear that the crash was not his fault by the showering of stuttered apologies and the pleased expression of the approaching figure. The buff, arrogant looking guy with cropped blonde hair sauntered over and changed his expression from pure satisfaction to one of bitterly insincere remorse.

"I am so sorry," he stated smoothly, the false apology dripping from his voice. "I had no idea my good friend Peter was going to hit anyone. I'm Flash by the way." I couldn't help but roll my eyes. This Flash person was apologizing for pushing someone else down the hallway and only because he hit an unintended target, someone he apparently wanted to know, when he should've been apologizing to Peter - the boy he carelessly shoved into a locker. "And who are you?" he continued, 'flashing' a painfully pretentious smile and winking.

I couldn't contain a second eye roll before responding with an impatient exhale: "Look, I really don't have time for this right now." It was true. There were only four minutes left before the tardy bell rang, and I was beginning to grow irritated. "So why don't you just apologize to..uh..Peter," I said motioning carelessly to the lean, brunette boy clutching his skateboard, "and then just go away." Peter let out a laugh, his chocolate brown eyes lighting up, and then looked slightly nervous from doing so while Flash's expression grew angry.

"I'll see you later, Parker," he snarled threateningly, pinning the boy to the lockers and dropping him to his feet, sending me a threatening look in the process before storming in the opposite direction.

Grabbing a better grip on my bag, I breathed, "That was interesting," more to myself than Peter who was still standing to my side.

"Happens all the time, just a new year," he responded, shrugging. "You're new," Peter declared matter-of-factly, not questioning whether or not I was actually a new student like most would. He just knew. "What's your first class..uh?" He rubbed the back of his neck, still stuttering, unsure of the words he allowed to escape his own mouth and questioning for a name.

"Marnie..Marnie Fleur," I told him. "And I'm in Physics," thinking back to the numbers on my schedule, "in room 316."

"I have AP Bio on that hall. I..can show you where it is...I mean, if you want," he offered. Peter was cute, not the type of cute that most girls would likely drool over, but he had a genuine look to him that was kind, warm.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks," I smiled. He cracked a shy half-smile and began to head in the right direction, dropping his board, stepping on it, and tightening his backpack to his tall torso, gliding to lead the way.

* * *

The majority of the day dragged on slowly until fifth period AP Literature, what I assumed would be my favorite class due to my love for reading. Most people hadn't noticed my presence, the fact that I was new, or even that I was in their class. That was probably my fault though since I didn't have the loud and appealing new kid personality that screamed 'You'll love me!' I was basically invisible at Midtown, but it seemed impossible not to be with such a large student body.  
Once the bell rang for lunch, I gathered my things and explored the campus for a few minutes before finally finding the cafeteria. Like most of the school, the lunchroom was crowded with constantly moving students, a smaller reflection of New York City itself. Retrieving an apple from my bag and biting into it, I heard my name being called from somewhere across the lunchroom.

"Marnie!" the unknown voice exclaimed. I found the caller, a blonde girl I recognized from my previous class who was walking toward me. "Marnie, right?" she questioned, now standing directly in front of me. "Hi, I'm Gwen Stacy." She smiled and extended a friendly arm. I took it, returning the smile.

"Marnie Fleur," I introduced.

"Do you want to sit with us?" she asked, motioning to a table behind her containing several of the students who were also in my Literature class.

Lunch with Gwen and her friends was actually pleasant for a first day at a new school, and she had even extended an invitation to her house after school sometime this week. Although most of the other students at the table didn't necessarily act interested in my friendship, they were nice enough I guess. Not only was she strikingly beautiful, she was seemingly the smartest person I had ever met, a genius really. I had been in mostly advanced classes my entire school career and had never met anyone who possessed so much knowledge. After only thirty minutes of conversation I could see that she was incredibly talented, especially after she informed me that she was a head intern at Oscorp, one of the most impressive scientific research facilities in the world - my dad's new place of employment actually.

The last half of my day consisted of elective classes: Art and Mass Media, so it was relatively relaxing for the remainder of the day.  
I was surprised to see a slightly familiar face in seventh period - Peter was in Mass Media. Apparently he had an interest for photography, which I quickly found out after having to cover his lens several times when he tried, for some reason, to take my picture and laughed heartily when I refused, appearing to slightly open up and stuttering less when he spoke, which wasn't often.

* * *

The school day was finally over, but I had no clue how to get home. I still wasn't familiar with the city yet and was terrible with directions, so I had taken a taxi to school and did the same on the way home. I arrived at my new house in less than half an hour, surprising for the traffic, and was welcomed by my mom who was still arranging boxes and unpacking them.

"How was the first day?" she inquired distractedly, reaching into one of the many cardboard boxes and pulling out random decorative knick-knacks.

"Fine," I shrugged. Nothing much had happened other than the escapade with Flash before school had even started.

"Just fine?" She stopped unpacking and looked at me with a raised eyebrow, putting her hands on her hips. "Did you meet any new people?"

I had talked in actuality to only three people not including my teachers - Gwen and Peter and Flash, if he even counts. The few others that I met at the lunch table with Gwen didn't technically constitute as acquaintances. "A few, yeah."

"Hmph," was her only reply as she resumed her box inspection.

Dad wasn't home yet. He was working, as usual. That's why we were here, a job transfer. My father was marine biologist who had studied the Southern Atlantic Ocean but was offered a position at Oscorp to research the environment of sea creatures and their genetic makeups. I didn't understand why he took the job when the company he previously worked for in Florida payed well enough, but according to him, working was an 'honor' - a dream even.

Hoping to get some alone time, I located the box filled with books and grabbed my favorite, _The Phantom of the Opera, _and climbed the stairs to my room. Luckily, I had the entire upstairs to myself. I was an only child. And my room, which I immediately unpacked and decorated as soon as we arrived, had a window seat, something I've always wanted. I sat on the window seat comfortably, propped my feet up, and looked out the window before opening to the first page of the book I had read six times before and saw a tall, lean skateboarder halt his board and enter the house directly across from mine. Peter Parker was my neighbor.

* * *

**Okay that was the first chapter to the story. I hope you enjoyed it so far. I realize this was fairly boring due to the fact that nothing has happened yet, but there aren't too many complete and interesting Peter Parker/OC stories, so I decided to take a stab at it. There is plot to come, I promise. If you're interested, please favorite, follow, and review. Input, constructive criticism, etc., is welcome! I shall write more soon. **


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, I would like to say wow! This story has already gotten more views, reviews, follows, and favorites than I ever expected for a first chapter. Thanks to justwonderingwhoiam and Emberscar for the feedback! I really appreciate it, and thanks to everyone else for following/favoriting/reading as well. Chapter 2 is officially ready for reading; however, we are still at the pre-rising action for the story. This is the formation of Peter and Marnie's friendship leading up to the strengthening of their relationship, Peter's transformation into Spider-Man, and eventually Marnie's own extraordinary experience. So, here is Chapter 2!**

* * *

Several days had passed at school, and the routine of life in New York City and Midtown High School was becoming relatively normal. Gwen and I had become reasonably good friends in such a short period of time; however, after accepting an invitation to dinner with her and her family, it was apparent that her parents were not as open to new people as their daughter. Her father, one of the city's police captains seemed stern and cold, and while her mother was hospitable to me as a visitor, she didn't possess the warmth of someone happy to meet her daughter's new friend.  
My new neighbors on the other hand, the Parkers, were genuinely kind people. May Parker, Peter's aunt had visited after we were completely moved in to welcome us with her delectable baked goods, highly irresistible chocolate chip cookies that even the healthiest eater could shamefully devour in one sitting.

Within our first settled week in New York, the Parkers had us over for dinner, including my father who actually wasn't working that night, and Aunt May had been considerate enough to not only cook a full meal for my family, but to provide vegetarian dishes for me that were equally appetizing - I didn't eat meat, not necessarily because I felt some sort of guilt about murdering helpless animals as much as the fact that I didn't like the taste of them. I preferred vegetables and fruits, naturally grown and varying in color.

The dinner at the Parkers wasn't completely free of awkward silence and tension though. May and Ben, along with my parents, automatically assumed that there was something going on with Peter and me other than our acquaintanceship, which made absolutely no sense, considering he barely spoke to me at school and hardly at all in front of our families. Uncle Ben sent frequent suggestive glances at Peter every time I spoke and focused personal questions on me which made me very uncomfortable, disliking the immediate attention.

Peter must have sensed my uneasy need for escape when he wadded his napkin and placed it on his empty plate. "Um..can I be excused?" he asked, looking to Aunt May, the first full means of communication all night other than short responses to my parents' targeted questions and understanding nods. He looked to me, motioning to follow, and after looking to all the faces staring at me from around the table, I too stood and followed him outside to the front porch.

"You're on his computer!" Uncle Ben called to me as we exited the house, and Peter sent him a glaring look and then looked to me with his uncomfortable brown doe eyes. He sat on the top step, his long legs extending nearly to the ground, and I sat in the space next to him, looking to the dark, empty street.

"Sorry about all that Marnie..they get these weird ideas..and..." he apologized nervously.

At that, I released a laughed, not at Peter but at the situation. My parents had also flooded Peter with the same ridiculous, awkward questions, ones he barely answered. "It's fine," I assured. "Why don't we just go somewhere? You can show me around the city," I suggested. I had been wanting to see all of New York since my arrival but had only glimpsed most of the basics.

"Sure." Peter allowed a genuine smile, returned inside to announce our departure, and led the way to the heart of the city.

* * *

New York City was extravagant, especially at night. The bright lights of Times Square flashed incessantly, advertising unlimited businesses and products. People hurried by in a thousand directions, car horns beeped impatiently, store windows called invitingly. But the height of the many skyscrapers was the most outstanding. The buildings loomed overhead menacingly, their floors stacking vertically into infinity. That was one of the many reasons why I didn't necessarily look forward to the move - my deadly fear of elevators. I did not fear heights or a broken elevator cable that could allow me to plummet to my unforgiving death. No, it was the claustrophobia, the possibility of being stuck for an unknown amount of time inside a metallic-colored, often times not transparent, box.  
Stopping at a Mexican food truck for dessert, we both bought sopapilla, a round sugary fried pastry sprinkled with cinnamon.

"Wanna see the top of the Empire State Building?" Peter asked, more comfortably now that we were away from our interrogating families.

I shook my head, swallowing the last bit of sopapilla. "Um, no. That's okay. We can do something else."

"Oh, come on. Everyone who comes to New York wants to see the Empire State," he exaggerated. "It's kind of a big deal."

"I can see it just fine from here," I said uneasily as we neared it on 5th Avenue, twirling a piece of wavy red hair between my fingers, a nervous habit.

He raised a thick eyebrow. "Heights?"

"Nope, I'll go if taking the stairs is an option."

"You want to climb 102 flights of stairs?" he questioned, chuckling.

"Yeah, I like the exercise," I said sarcastically.

* * *

We decided on Barnes & Noble in Union Square after I disapproved of every New York store and landmark that contained a necessary elevator. At least there I could reasonably take the stairs without collapsing. The store was magnificent. Books lined the shelves in abundance, filling the majority of the store in a literary avalanche. It resembled Belle's library in _Beauty & the Beast, _and I was quickly overwhelmed, unsure of which section to start.

"Wow," I spoke, lost for words. I was a shameless book worm. That was for sure.

Peter smiled at my reaction and grabbed my arm, pulling me to the Scientific Non-Fiction section, which consisted of several aisles packed thoroughly with every logical subject matter imaginable. I may have been a literature nerd, but Peter was a scientific nerd, apparent by his excitement for the many informative books on biology, chemistry, physics, genetics, and engineering. I raised an eyebrow and giggled as he lifted a book about the behavior of arachnids and began to flip quickly through the pages, absorbing as much information as possible. He set it back awkwardly when he realized my laughter. "Hey!" he accused with mock irritation. "I didn't make fun of you for being afraid of elevators. You're in New York by the way. Good luck surviving without them," he laughed, returning his focus to the surrounding books. "Let me enjoy myself," he said, motioning to the never-ending shelves of scientific discovery behind him. His response triggered a broad smile of my own and another giggle.

"I'm going to find the classics," I announced, turning to leave him with his scientific haven.

"Don't get lost!" he called back to me jokingly; however, I probably would.

* * *

**Okay! That was Chapter 2. Thanks so much for reading! I hope you have enjoyed it so far and will continue. Keep in mind that this is still build up to the eventual plot that will take place during The Amazing Spider-Man 1 and 2. It may seem slow, but that's because I don't want to rush into the action/drama too quickly. Please follow, favorite, and review. I really appreciate your commentary :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, and welcome back to the story! I updated yesterday, posting Chapter 2 which hasn't received much reaction so far, but I've decided to continue promptly with Chapter 3. This is finally going to be the beginning of the movie, introducing the recognizable plot and eventually the new twists to the original story. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Two months of school had passed so far. It was the end of October, and I had learned several things since my arrival in New York City, specifically Midtown High School:

Gwen Stacy was without a doubt a genius and one of my closest friends. She was someone who could be trusted with anything and was always dependable for logical, well-reasoned advice.

Peter Parker, despite his inevitable shyness, was by far the kindest person I had met at Midtown and was even willing enough to tutor me in Physics after school at his house, conveniently across the street. Unlike Gwen who spent the majority of her time socializing, including a completely filled tutoring schedule, or interning at Oscorp, Peter and I seemed to have an unlimited amount of free time, so he was nice enough to help me save my declining grade. It wasn't that I was necessarily failing, but my disapproval of any grade less than an A proved that I needed the tutoring when my grade reached a low-C; however, once the tutoring began, I was able to raise my grade to a B within about two weeks.

Flash Thompson was certainly and irrefutably a jerk to Peter, me, and all the other students at Midtown who didn't abide by his menacing rules. He seemed to take some unknown pleasure in invoking suffering, physical and/or emotional, on those who appeared weaker, and he often succeeded.

The rest of Midtown's students were all relatively smarter than the average high school students. The school did specialize in science; however, while I had always over achieved in every school subject, my battle with Physics was unrelenting.

* * *

"EAT IT!" a vicious voice yelled to the dangling body he held upside-down, pressing the unknown figure's face to a plate of food resembling spaghetti. The body struggled beneath his grasp, writhing with embarrassment and agitation. I stood up from the bench in the courtyard where I had been hopelessly studying for today's test on Harmonic Motion, closing the book, and stepping to get a better view of the disturbance. I saw Peter from across the sea of onlooking faces, watching Flash torment the boy. Flash, who was searching for cheers of approval, saw Peter with his trademark camera and ordered him to "Take a picture, Parker!"

"Put him down, Flash," Peter replied calmly yet sternly, watching motionless.

"Take the picture!" flash snarled again, this time growing more irritated at Peter's lack of obedience.

"No," was Peter's only response. He stepped forward a few feet as though to stand up to Flash without necessarily confronting him. "Put him down _Eugene." _This mention of Flash's real name, apparently some sort of Midtown taboo invoked laughter from the interested students, waiting for Flash/Eugene to make his next move.

Now that Flash, who obviously held the attention span of a child, was tired of force feeding a helpless nerd, he quickly decided that Peter, who he now saw as a challenger, was his next target. Dropping the boy with a thump and a groan, Flash moved angrily to Peter, towering over him and clearly measuring greater in muscle mass. As the previous victim stood and quickly retreated, Flash mumbled several sarcastic insults at Peter before punching him several times in the face and midsection. With each punch, I winced as Peter grunted and fell to the ground clutching his ribs, his eye already beginning to bruise. Before Flash could cause further damage, I stepped nearer into the action, standing next to the grounded Peter.

"You know, Flash," I interrupted, distracting him mid-kick. "If you kill my Physics tutor, you won't be able to cheat off of me anymore." I wasn't necessarily the best Physics student, but since my tutoring sessions began, my test grades generally consisted of A's, grades that Flash was unable to achieve on his own. Luckily the students surrounding us were significantly worse at the subject, and since Flash had become accustomed to making high grades, he wasn't willing to sacrifice his accomplishment. I knew that for sure.  
Now I didn't support the act of cheating, but it was worth it in times like this where I could use it as a weapon against its violent dependent.  
Luckily, my threat quickly stopped his action and once again turned his violent aim from its intended victim to another - me. Realizing that what I said was true, he huffed with defeat and stomped away, creating a path of destruction upon retreat.

Focusing now on the bruised and fatigued Peter on the ground near my feet, I knelt beside him as he sat up slowly. "Thanks Marn." He attempted a shy smile and a laugh that resulted in a grimace, and I grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet.

"I think you need to go to the nurse," I said as I retrieved his skateboard from the ground. He reached for it, protesting the the idea of checking his current condition.

"I'm good," he assured. This time he accomplished his classic, promising smile.

"You could have a concussion." His steps weren't fully steady, so I pulled his arm around my shoulders, guiding him to our next class. "Go see the nurse. Don't make me have to beat you up too."

"Very funny," he returned sarcastically. His steps quickly returned to normal, but the arm circling my shoulders remained in place. And although I should've been more concerned about his vitals at the moment, I couldn't help but enjoy the feeling. I liked being near Peter, and though I was unsure of my feelings toward him other than a friendly Physics tutor, he was definitely pleasant to be around.

* * *

That night, I kept replaying the day's earlier events with Flash and Peter. Even as I sat down to dinner and was flooded with the routine questions by mom about how my day was and if I made any new friends (even though I had been here for two months and had made a total of 3 - there was also a girl named Nicole who was in my Literature class) and all of the usual motherly questions that come along with a new school year in a new part of the country, I couldn't get the image out of my mind. What I did was completely out of my character. Usually I would have stayed silent in disgust as whoever got pummeled by whomever, and then would have thought about how wrong it was for someone to act so violently on another person who was just trying to do the right thing. But no, I stepped in because I cared enough to. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, my slowly growing friendship with Peter was important to me, more important than it probably should be.

Scraping the remainder of my dinner - bright green steamed broccoli and fried rice - into the garbage disposal and ascending the stairs to my room, I changed into a tank top and comfy shorts. The temperature of the fall weather had fallen faster than that in Florida, so I did not have the climate-appropriate attire; therefore, extra blankets were always needed. Once I had changed and pulled my thick, wavy red hair into a long ponytail, I sat at my window seat, my favorite location of the entire house, and began scribbling the numbers for my Calculus homework, calculation after calculation. After half an hour of uninterrupted mathematics, I looked across the street toward the Parker's house. Peter's room faced directly across from mine. The light illuminating his room well enough to see into, I squinted to view Aunt May giving him a concerned talk and handing him something which I assumed was an ice pack when he took it and raised it to his blackened eye, sitting in a slouched position at his computer.  
Eventually, at some unknown hour I fell asleep: TV on, calculus book in lap, and pencil in hand, leaving an illegible series of marks on the paper.

* * *

**Well, that was Chapter 3. What do y'all think so far? So we have finally seen an event from TASM movie, and there is definitely more to come! Please follow and favorite if you like what you've read so far and want to read more. Also, please review, review, review. I need feedback of any kind. Do you like it? Is there something I should add or change? Or does it just suck altogether? Let me know! I hope you stick around for more.**


	4. Chapter 4

**It has been several days, but Chapter 4 is now complete. I would like to give a very special thanks to XLucyInTheSkyX and Rissa-channn for the reviews! Your input is appreciated. Also, thanks for the favorites and follows so far and everyone who is reading. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

It was the next morning, a bright Saturday, exactly 9:31 AM. Dad was off to work on his usually early and prolonged shift. Mom had left earlier as well to do some much needed grocery shopping and possible job hunting. With the money my father was bringing in from Oscorp, there wasn't much need for any other sources of income, but Mom needed something to keep her occupied. That's all she had talked about since our arrival several weeks ago. I stood from the window seat that I had fallen asleep on, stretching uncomfortably to relieve my cramped limbs and headed to the kitchen in search of something to make for breakfast. Deciding upon toast and a variety of fruits, I turned on the toaster and prepared the necessary ingredients, chopping the many fruits - pineapple, strawberry, banana, grapes - and mixing them in a bowl.  
Without warning, the door received a cheerful-sounding knock. I saw Peter through the window, eagerly waiting. I opened the door, still clothed in my pajamas and quickly became self-conscious of my visibly slept on hair.

"Good morning, Marnie!" he smiled, stepping into the house with a motion that almost resembled a skip. "Someone isn't a morning person," he observed, his cheery mood unwavering.

"Peter, it isn't even ten o'clock yet..and it's Saturday," I yawned.

"Good point. What's cooking?"

"Toast and fruit salad," I informed. "Want some?"

"Sure." He sat down on one of the bar stools and sat patiently, still grinning and fidgeting with his hands.

It was then, when I was fully awake, that I realized something was different about his appearance other than the unchanging smile that revealed he was dying to ask or say something important. "You got glasses?" I noticed, but it came out as a question.

"Yeah, they were my dad's." I set a plate of food in front of him and sat down with my own. "That's kind of why I'm here." He hesitated for a moment, but the eager expression remained. "My dad died in a plane crash a long time ago, but he left this brief case with Aunt May and Uncle Ben before he left." He pulled out a brown leather bag from his blue book bag. Engraved on the latch were the initials RP. "I've looked through it for years, thinking it was empty, but last night a found a newspaper article with a picture of him and Dr. Curt Connors, and a piece of paper with these symbols, and..." He rambled on, showing me each of the items he had found: the photo, a paper with several complicated equations and two red circles with lines through them, a pen, a calculator, and the glasses Peter was currently wearing. "I looked up Dr. Connors, and he's one of the head researchers at Oscorp on cross-species genetics."

By now, I was completely lost. I had no idea what cross-species genetics was, and I definitely didn't know why Peter was choosing to reveal all this information to me. He must have noticed the confused look on my face because he stopped rambling, slowed down, and clarified why he was here. "I want to find out more about my parents, more than Uncle Ben and Aunt May are telling me. I want to talk to Dr. Connors at Oscorp, to find out what my dad was working on, and your dad works at Oscorp." I raised an eyebrow, still not completely positive how I could help in this situation. "Do you think you could get us in?" I thought for a minute. Peter wanted in Oscorp, and not only did he want in, he wanted me to somehow help him investigate.

"Pete, I don't think you realize how difficult it is to get into the researching areas of Oscorp. I tried to bring my dad lunch a few weeks ago because he left it at home, and they wouldn't let me past the third floor without a series of interrogations, and even then a guard took my dad's lunch from me and delivered it himself. The place is secured, locked tight," I explained. Oscorp made me nervous. Whatever they were researching or discovering there, they obviously didn't want anyone to know what it was. Everything was top secret, even my dad's work which he claimed was confidential. However, Peter's begging, brown doe eyes were unforgiving and persuasive. "But I guess we can try something."

After finishing breakfast, showering, and getting fully dressed, I was ready to sneak into Oscorp..or that's what it felt like we'd be doing. Peter suggested that I try to bring my dad lunch again, even though he had already taken his lunch this morning. That was the backup plan though. Somehow, he expected that he would be able to waltz into Oscorp, ask for Dr. Curt Connors himself, and arrange a meeting.

* * *

Oscorp was one of the tallest and most massive buildings in the heart of New York City. The modern design looked like a ginormous, glass space ship. We entered the building together in silence, the cream colored walls of the lobby extending intimidatingly. Several escalators carried hurried employees to their designated locations, and security guards stood at several posts as a precautionary measure to prevent trouble..or snooping. I watched Peter as he took in the overwhelming scene around us, hoping that we didn't appear to be the suspicious teenagers that we were. He walked several feet in front of me, lost in his own preoccupying observations of Oscorp.

"Excuse me," a brunette, suited woman behind the front desk called to him.

"What?" he questioned absent-mindedly as he was torn from his thoughts.

"Can I help you?

"Oh, I don't know.." he stuttered. "I'm..I'm here to see Dr. Connors."

"Right, you'll find yourself to the left," she informed him.

Wait..his plan was working? I began walking to the front desk as well.

"You are here for the internship?" She questioned his intentions when he grew silent.

"Yeah..yeah," he nodded nervously as her face began to show expressions of skepticism.

"Okay, find your badge to the left."

Peter looked to the left, searching for his nonexistent name tag. "Oh."

"Are you having trouble finding yourself?"

"No," he shook his head quickly. "I got it." He reached for a random intern's badge confidently, held it up, and smiled at the secretary.

"Okay...Mr. Guevara," she said with slightly squinted eyes of sarcasm.

"Gracias," he smiled, turning away and walking to find Dr. Connors. Wow, he seriously got in.

"De nada."

I stepped up to the front desk, the bunned woman glancing up at me. "Can I help you?" she asked routinely.

"My father is Dr. Fleur," I announced. "He forgot his lunch at home." I held up the bag of food innocently; although, I knew the interrogations that would likely follow.

"Right," she said. "You may go to the sixth floor and drop it off there. Someone will make sure that Dr. Fleur receives his lunch." Oh my, I've been promoted to the _sixth_ floor now. I took the escalator that led to the first official floor of Oscorp and from then had to decide which mode of transportation I would use to travel the remaining ascension. Luckily, I was only allowed on the single-digit floors so the stairs were an option, an option I obviously took over the transparent elevator.  
I took my time climbing the steps until I finally reached the sixth story. Looking around, I noticed that the employees on this floor were not nearly as erratic and chaotic as those on floor three. Everything on this level appeared to be calm. I located this floor's front desk, which made it apparent that this section of Oscorp focused primarily on botany - the study of plants.

"Yes?" a blonde secretary asked, her eyes never leaving her computer screen as she typed with lightning speed.

"Hi," I answered awkwardly. "I'm Dr. Fleur's daughter. He works in marine biology," I explained. "He forgot his lunch this morning, and so I brought it to him, but the secretary in the lobby told me to come here."

"Right." She smiled and looked up from her computer, her fingers resting from their non-stop typing. "I'll make sure he gets it."

"Thank you," I smiled back, surprised that there was no heavy questioning of my intentions like my previous delivery.

"No problem, Miss Fleur."

* * *

"Excuse me, Miss!" I turned nervously, hoping I wasn't somehow in trouble for being in the wrong place. I had descended to the fifth floor which also was one of the botanist research areas. Calling to me was a frazzled-looking man garbed in the standard white lab coat, black slacks, and latex gloves. In his hands he held a covered tray, his graying hair stuck out in a billion different directions, and his thin glasses were placed crookedly on his face. "You're Dr. Fleur's daughter, correct? You just dropped off his lunch on the floor above." He resembled the stereotypical, cartoon depiction of a mad scientist.

"Uh, yes sir?" He must have somehow seen me at the front desk earlier.

"I'm Dr. O'Neil, senior botanist researcher. We've been working to create a new species of genetically-modified vegetables here at Oscorp to fight world hunger, and we've succeeded in growing a product that has very tested well with the animals." He uncovered the tray in his hands to reveal an abnormal-looking salad. The lettuce was unnaturally green. The cherry tomatoes bulged awkwardly in random places. The cucumber slices were unusually large, and the baby carrots appeared to be flimsy, rubbery even. It looked horribly unappetizing. Glancing curiously back at him, he further explained: "Your father talks about you frequently. He says your a vegetarian?" I raised an unsure eyebrow. "These vegetables have proved to be completely safe. Now we just need honest, unbiased opinions on the quality of their taste." He retrieved a plastic fork from his lab coat pocket and handed it to me. "If you're willing, your opinion would be helpful to our study."

"Okay," I accepted, not really wanting to eat the deformed-looking salad, but Dr. O'Neil seemed genuine enough. I also wasn't really in a position to say no. He held out the tray of varying vegetables to me, and I stabbed a forkful of each, chewing slowly. The initial taste was decent, tasting relatively the same as their natural alternatives, but the aftertaste was bitter and left me in desperate need for a drink. The texture was also nearly impossible to swallow, slimy yet coarse at the same time.

"Well?" he asked with wildly curious eyes. "How is it?"

"Um, I probably wouldn't eat it," I admitted, trying to not be too harsh toward his proud creation. "The initial taste is very good, but the after taste is unpleasant." I lied. The initial taste was not very good. It was okay. The after taste was more than unpleasant. It was almost brutal. I didn't even mention the texture.

"Well, thank you for your input. We will now be able to create a more appealing vegetable thanks to your observation."

"You're welcome?" I understood that he wanted the opinion of an everyday person so the study would be unbiased, but I had no idea how my vegetable verdict could be much of a contribution other than preventing innocent people from eating such disgusting and unnatural produce.

"I should be getting back to the laboratory." He looked down excitedly at his creation. "I think I know a new soil formula that will improve the taste and texture by 73%! Goodbye, Marnie," he walked quickly away with full intention.

"Goodbye, Dr. O'Neil."

* * *

I sat on a bench outside of Oscorp waiting for Peter, watching the diverse crowds of people walk by. By now it was the late afternoon. Peter and I had decided that we would wait for one another at the bench in the invent that we were separated, and of course we had been from the beginning.  
After a few minutes, I received an excruciatingly stabbing pain in the stomach that arrived without warning. The sensation grew, without nausea. No other symptoms accompanied but the sharp ache. My attempt to stand left me hunched over, unable to straighten myself without increasing the pain. I hailed a taxi as quickly as the traffic and my body would allow and gave the driver my address, falling into the back seat, sweat beginning to bead on my forehead. Lying in the back of the cab, I pulled out my phone from my bag and texted Peter to let him know I had left:

**Had to leave bc I got sick. Let me  
know ****if you found out anything.**

* * *

**A suspenseful ending to Chapter 4 ;) I hope you liked it! Review, follow, and favorite for more!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow! I'm very happy to firstly say that the previous chapter received 3 reviews. Thank you , Rissa-channn, and the Guest who left such lovely commentary. I really am grateful for your feedback, and I'm glad that you like the story so far. Also, thanks to everyone who has favorited and followed the story. I'm hoping to do something original with this story that most fics (in the Spider-Man category that is) I've seen don't really do with their OCs, and I hope that I can create a very interesting and enjoyable story for you all. So without further adieu, here is Chapter 5!**

* * *

I arrived home at an unknown time. Night was nearing, made apparent by the glowing orange sunset that was often blocked by the never-ending sea of skyscrapers. Neither Mom nor Dad had made it home, so I climbed up the stairs to my room, battling the ongoing stomach stabbings, and closed the door before falling onto my still unmade bed. Almost immediately after coming into contact with the bed, I fell into a restless sleep.  
Mom and Dad must have decided to let me rest when they got home, or maybe they couldn't wake me up. I don't know, but I woke up sometime around 2 AM, my throat screaming for water. I hopped down stairs, fully awake, pain-free, and somehow refreshed, to quench my thirst. I drank one glass of ice water, and then another, and then three more. The more water I drank, the more I craved until eventually I was satisfied.  
There was something different about the way I felt, as if I were lighter than I was before. I felt the air around me, and despite just waking up, my mind was completely clear. I rushed back up stairs, making as little noise as possible and flipped my bedroom light on. I looked in the mirror, and while I saw myself, features had somehow changed and were now exaggerated. My fair skin had lightened more than normal but still retained a healthy glow, and any blemish I once had was now gone. My red hair appeared longer and brighter, closely resembling the unnatural cherry tomato of the genetically modified salad while still looking like a natural hair color; however, it was not my hair color. But the strangest difference was in my eyes. My dull, brownish-green eyes had become a bright emerald color that radiated violently.

Something was wrong. I felt it earlier in the raging pain and now in the constant airiness I felt, but most of all, I saw it. There was a visible difference that I hoped no one would notice. The change in my hair and skin was barely noticeable, but the color of my eyes was outstanding and couldn't be overlooked. Thinking back to the previous day's events, I reached for my phone. Peter had responded to my text sometime earlier with a detailed message to let me know that he had explored of Oscorp to gain more information about the red-circular-symbol-things but had left with little success. He ended the text with:

**Hope you feel better. I'm not feeling  
****well either. Let's move tutoring  
to tomorrow. **

Being unable to go back to sleep, I thought desperately about what could have caused such drastic side-effects and physical changes. My mind wandered back to the disgusting, genetically produced salad that was fed to me hours earlier. It was the only suspect I could think of, but how any food could affect someone so quickly and characteristically was beyond my knowledge.  
I grabbed my laptop, searching for side effects of GMOs. Thousands of articles appeared that described possible viruses and allergies linked to unnaturally grown food products and the environmental and moral dilemmas associated with growing and eating such foods, but not a single article discussed anything about changing eye color or even stomach pain, a generally normal side effect of most anything.

* * *

I had been fully awake for sometime when the Sunday morning sun had risen. Both Mom and Dad had opted to stay home today. I showered before going downstairs for breakfast. When I walked down, Dad was sitting in the living room recliner. The TV illustrated some documentary about ocean life while he studied a file intently. Mom was also in the living room continuing her job hunt online.

"Morning," I greeted, heading to retrieve a few grapes from the refrigerator. Popping a few into my mouth, their flavor was enhanced a thousand times more than normal.

"You're up early," my father said, raising his glasses from his eyes and looking up from his mystery file.

"I went to sleep early."

"That's for sure," Mom chimed in. "When I went to get you for dinner, you were out cold."

I laughed nervously, popping the last grape into my mouth, chewing slowly, and swallowing.

"What are your plans for the day?" Mom asked.

"Homework mostly, I guess. Peter couldn't tutor me yesterday, so he probably will today."

They nodded in unison and resumed their activities of studying and job hunting. I walked back up stairs, changing out of my robe and into a pair of skinny jeans and an over-sized sweater. I texted Peter, unsure of if he'd be awake or not.

**Are you feeling any better?**

He replied in seconds, stating that he felt much better and asked how I was doing. Once the chit-chat of our current conditions was over, I said:

**I have physics homework. Think  
****you can help today?**

I walked to the bathroom and dried my thick, wavy red hair, which had conveniently grown about an inch and a half over night. After it was completely dry, I decided to straighten it since I never took the time to do that, hoping that would pass as a legitimate excuse for it looking longer. I then applied a little mascara and checked my phone. Peter had replied:

**Sure come over whenever**

I shoved my phone in my back pocket, grabbed my Physics book and homework, and put on a pair of black boots.  
"I'm going to Peter's," I told my parents on my way out. They still sat in their previous spots.

"Alright, be back for dinner!" Mom called to me as I was shutting the door behind me.

* * *

Peter sat atop a ledge outside of his bedroom window, one leg dangling comfortably off of the roof. I stood on the ground directly below him. "What on earth are you doing, Pete?" I called up at him, tearing him out of his focus on whatever he was looking at.

"Just looking over some stuff." He picked up a manila folder and waved it where I could see it. "Come on up, Marnie!"

I walked inside the Parker's home. Aunt May was inside, several pots and pans on the stove. "Good morning, Marnie!" she greeted me cheerfully with a bright smile.

"Morning, Aunt May." Despite the fact that I was not related to Uncle Ben or Aunt May in any way, they insisted that I call them as such, and it felt fitting honestly.

"Will you move that plant for me?" she asked, referring to the wilted potted plant placed on the counter beside the stove. She was juggling several cooking dishes and held a pan of some kind that she had just retrieved from the oven, aiming to place it where the plant was sitting.

I grabbed it, stepping back so that she had enough space to maneuver where she needed to. Once my hands came into contact with the pot itself, the brown, wilted plant practically jumped up, reviving into a colorful flower. I was more than shocked, and it took all I had to not drop the pot as the once withered plant sprang into healthy condition. "Where...do you want me to set it?" I asked nervously, still in shock.

"Oh, just put it anywhere," Aunt May suggested, shutting the oven and stirring a pan of an unknown sauce. "That dead thing needs to be thrown out anyway. Oh!" She gasped as she turned around to see the undead, quite beautiful flower in my hands. "Well never mind then. That's odd. Just set it over there somewhere," she motioned.

I placed the plant in a safe location, grabbed my Physics materials and went upstairs to Peter's room where I could meet him on the ledge. We breezed through the worksheet and the information I needed to know for the next quiz. Physics, and well, science of any kind, came easy to Peter, and with his help, it was beginning to come easy to me. The remainder of the time was spend on the ledge attempting to make sense of the files Peter had from his father's studies with Dr. Connors.

"Peter," Uncle Ben said from below, interrupting our investigation.

"Hmm?"

"What are you guys doing up there?"

"We're, uh...homework," Peter stuttered, looking back and forth from Uncle Ben, to me, to the files and books strewn on the roof.

"Be careful," Uncle Ben cautioned before walking inside.

"Sure." Peter tucked his dangling foot beneath him as to show that he wouldn't fall and then looked intently at a black book written by Dr. Connors himself about cross-species genetics.

"So you really didn't find anything new?" I asked, wanting to learn more about how Peter's day went at Oscorp in comparison to mine.

"Not really," he sighed. "There was this man, though. He dropped a file that had the two symbols like these." He pointed to the red circles. "I followed him to this room that was locked by password and went in, but I didn't learn much." I picked up the yellowed sheet of notebook paper that contained the symbols as well as some sort of algorithm, completely lost in the mathematical symbols as well as the unknown ones and the over-complicated forms of logic.

"What is all this?" I wondered aloud, flipping the pages in the file and staring confusedly at them.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," he sighed again. "All I know is that Dr. Connors and my father were working on some sort of serum to help the injured self-heal. I think this algorithm is what he needs." He put the book down, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes, looking well beyond his years. "So," he began, looking up at me, "what did you do at Oscorp?"

"Well, I delivered my dad his lunch...even though he technically didn't need it. They let me go to the sixth floor this time," I smiled with sarcastic accomplishment. "Oh, and I ate a salad."

"A salad?"

"Something Oscorp is working on, and it was disgusting."

He laughed. "You'd think they would have more important things to do at such an advanced research facility." He continued to chuckle.

"It's supposed to 'fight world hunger,'" I quoted Dr. O'Neil, "but really, it just fights the urge to ever eat again. It's bad." I snickered at the strange experience I had in comparison to Peter's; although, I was still worried that something went terribly wrong with the salad.

For a moment the light mood changed. Peter looked at me, really looked at me for the first time since I'd been there now that he was focused on something other than the mystery of his father. "You look different," he observed concernedly, scrutinizing my face.

"I straightened my hair," I offered, trying to avoid any conversation that I wouldn't be able to explain.

"It's not that." He continued to look closer. "It's your eyes." Peter cupped my face gently in one hand, drawing me closer to him to get a better view. "They're brighter, greener." He looked amazed, and I was unsure how to react, not only to the fact that he had noticed and was suspicious but also the fact that our faces were much closer than I initially realized. After what seemed like a long moment, he hesitated but then dropped his hand, his expression leaving with it. "I need to see Dr. Connors," he stated, reverting back to analysis-mode and closing the folder with all of its contents.

"Yeah, I need to get back home." We had spent a good portion of the day on the roof, and it was nearing the late afternoon. I stood, walked to the window, and turned back to look at him.

He sent me one of his classic, shy half-smiles. "See ya tomorrow, Marnie."

"Good luck, Pete."

* * *

**So, that is the end of Chapter 5! I really hope that you enjoy the direction I am taking with Marnie and the story so far. Please review to give me your opinion of how the story is going, and let me know if you want more or if there is anything I should improve on. Don't forget to follow and favorite, and thanks to the repeat readers who already have! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello, and welcome back to the story. I want to apologize for taking so long to update, but I've been busy for the last month and haven't had much time to write or even think about the story. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the previous chapter and has favorited/followed. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Monday morning, 6:03 AM.

I rolled out of bed slowly, unexcited to begin the school day and was thrown off guard by the color coating my usually unpainted fingernails. They were now a shade of emerald green, almost matching my newly brightened eyes. Quickly, I glanced down at my toes. They were the same color.

"Well, at least it's pretty," I grumbled to myself, sighing at the unwarranted bodily changes. I had hit puberty years ago, and I wasn't aware that eye-color change, painted fingernails, and over-night hair growth was part of the package, not to mention the reaction of the dead plant I revived yesterday at the Parkers'.  
I stepped into the bathroom for a quick shower, allowing the stream of hot water to fully wake me up. Robing myself and wrapping a towel around my long, dripping hair, I sprinted downstairs for breakfast: a piece of toast Mom had prepared for me. I took an abnormally ginormous bite before returning to my room to get ready. I routinely lined my top eyelids with eyeliner and coated my lashes with mascara. My hair had already begun to dry and was in its usual mass of beach-looking waves. I finished drying it and clipped the front pieces out of my face. I had five minutes to leave the house, so I slipped on a pair of skinny jeans, a printed shirt, boots, and a black cardigan.

* * *

The majority of my morning was excruciatingly boring, so much so that I found myself doodling instead of taking notes. I was required to have a sketchbook for Art class, so instead of paying attention in Calculus, I drew various pictures of flowers and plants swirling in different directions, beginning as realistic drawings and turning into abstract versions. Finally, the bell rang for lunch after fifth period. The rest of the day would be relaxing, no further core classes to deal with.  
I headed to lunch with Gwen as usual, making small talk about the book we were reading for AP Literature and her internship at OSCORP.

"What's that?" she asked curiously, pointing to the sketchbook I was still holding. I hadn't put it in my bag since I was in such a rush to get out of class and to lunch.

"Oh, it's just my sketchbook for Art," I shrugged.

Gwen took the book and flipped through the pages slowly as we entered the cafeteria, studying each individual sketch I had completed during the day. "These are really good." She turned to the last drawing, which was unfinished, and closed the book, handing it back to me. "Do you paint too?"

"I used to, but not really anymore. I haven't drawn in forever either, but I was dying of boredom," I confessed, releasing a laugh.

"You should paint something," she suggested.

"Like what?" I shoved the sketchbook into my bag, my love for art sparked by someone else's interest.

"I'm not sure," she thought earnestly. "You're the artist. Find some inspiration," she exclaimed with exaggerated movements, looking quite ridiculous as her left-brained, logical mind fought for some creativity.

I laughed heartily at her excited outburst and set my stuff down at our usual table to get in line. "I think you should stick to equations and science experiments, Gwen." I winced sarcastically.

The food in the school's cafeteria was like that of most schools, microwaved and not fresh. There was a salad bar, consisting of various fruits and vegetables, vegetation that had been out of the ground for a while and was in no condition to eat; however, I was hungry and didn't bring my lunch, so it had to do. I grabbed a bowl and began scooping different vegetables into it: lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, broccoli, and every tray of food I scooped turned suddenly fresh. The wilted lettuce leaves were immediately crisp and green. The mushy tomatoes became plump and bright. Every vegetable I touched with the serving utensils freshened the entire trays, leaving several appetizing choices among the usual rotting ones.  
I was startled by the sudden and impossible change, but I was somehow expecting it after what happened yesterday with Aunt May's potted plant. How on Earth was this possible? I had the power to turn back time...for plants, to somehow make them healthy again.

"How did you get a fresh salad?" one of the boys at our table, Evan, asked, looking down at his own wilted plate, amazed that the school had actually provided fresh food.

"Yeah, your salad looks like it came from a five-star restaurant, and mine looks like I fished it out of a dumpster," another girl, Jess, chuckled, danging a piece of brown lettuce between her fingers.

"I guess they decided to replace the trays with fresh stuff for once. You guys were just too late," I laughed nervously, taking a bite of my self-freshened salad.

* * *

For Art class, our teacher decided to sign us up to paint cheering banners for the basketball team. The long banners were spread throughout the gym, and the sixth period Art students painted signs of encouragement on each. Conveniently, the team had athletics that period and was practicing around the posters and buckets of paint. Whistles blew, shoes skidded across the polished floor, and the sound of dribbling basketballs echoed in the gym as the players sprinted from one side of the court to the other and threw the ball from basket to basket.  
I sat criss-crossed on the floor of the gym with Melissa. She wore glasses, and her dark brown hair was twisted up in several braids. She squatted, painting blue lettering on the yellow poster. I propped myself up with one hand, planting it on the banner, and painted blue lines of letters with the other. Peter was also in the gym, taking pictures for the yearbook since he was allowed two periods of Mass Media.

"Rejected!" an annoyingly cocky voice yelled in satisfaction. It was Flash, of course. A basketball flew our way, knocking over the bucket of blue paint. It coated the banner, ruining what Melissa and I had completed, and it splattered all over the hand I had resting on the poster. My initial reaction wasn't anger. It was irritation. This was Flash we were dealing with, after all, so the likelihood of it being an accident or getting an apology was doubtful. I dropped my brush into the bucket of water and wiped the globs of paint from my hand, but Melissa wasn't as calm, clearly angry that Flash had destroyed the banner we had free-handed, coincidentally for the basketball team.

"You did that on purpose, Flash!" she yelled, standing angrily in defense.

And of course, instead of apologizing, he had to have the last word: "No, but I should've. You better watch your back." He looked at her sardonically and then looked down at me with the hatred he had felt for me since the first day of school. A new ball was thrown in, and he turned carelessly back to practice.

Peter noticed the scene and walked over to us. "Hey," he said, giving a knowing and reassuring look. He had definitely been the receiver of Flash's nonsense plenty of times. He bent over and set the paint bucket in its proper position. "Alright?" He smiled at us before the ball came in our direction once again, but this time Peter somehow instinctively stopped the ball, catching it in his palm, now sharing our annoyance at Flash.

"Give it up, Parker!" Flashed boomed, as if it had been Peter's fault that the ball came at us. Flash motioned impatiently, and Pete rolled his eyes at the looming barbarian.

He looked at me with a scheming smile and nodded to Flash quickly. "One sec!" Pete called to him, handing me his camera, and walked to the middle of the gym.

"Peter what are you doing?" I gave him a warning look, as if he didn't know what Flash was capable of. He smiled back at me and then turned his full attention to Flash.

"Why don't you take it from he?" Peter taunted, slapping a palm on the basketball. Flash and Peter stood face to face, divided by the center line of the court, and Flash received cheers of encouragement from his fellow neanderthal-like teammates. "Take it." Flash extended an arm and missed as Peter shifted the ball from his right arm to his left. I squinted my eyes in delighted disbelief that Peter was humiliating Flash and hadn't been murdered yet. Flash made another attempt, but Peter was too quick and moved the ball behind his back, holding it straight out. Flash finally lunged at Peter, missing a third time, and Peter circled the ball around his head. Flash turned to walk away, but Peter threw the ball, bouncing it off his back to provoke him. This move received chuckles from everyone inside the gym, including the basketball players, and Peter grinned in pride and amazement. I found myself smiling with him at his success.  
With some superhuman grip on the ball, Peter pretended to throw the ball at Flash, making him flinch and harming his ego. "Just take it," Peter said in a calm voice, this time without the mocking grin. "Alright, how 'bout this?" He shielded his eyes with his free hand, peeking at Flash through his two fingers and held out the ball for Flash to easily take. "Alright, how 'bout that?" He even turned away from his extended arm. Flash reached for the ball, first with one hand, but could not retrieve it from Peter's grip. He tried both hands unsuccessfully, scowling at his inability. Peter whispered something to him, causing him to back away slowly from Peter while his teammates cheered and Pete dribbled the ball at ease, smiling.

"Alright, bring it! Come on, Parker!" Flash yelled, jumping and prancing around to show off his defensive skills. Peter dashed across the gym without hesitation, overtaking Flash and knocking him over, and then soared into the air to complete a slam dunk. His descent took the basket with him, shattering the backboard into a trillion tiny shards. The expression plastered on his face matched all the others in the gym: pure shock.

"Oh. My. God," I exhaled in disbelief. Peter's defiance and mockery of Flash was shocking enough. His shattering slam dunk was unbelievable. Coach McCord escorted him from the gym, probably to arrange his punishment for embarrassing one of his precious athletes and destroying school property, and the bell rang conveniently to change classes. I examined Peter's camera that I had been holding for him, turning it over in my hand before placing it in my bag. It was time for seventh period, a class we had together, so hopefully I would be able to give it back soon.  
Flash obnoxiously slammed the basketball onto the ground with brute force and grunted to release his anger of defeat. I rolled my eyes at him, and he sent Melissa and I glares of hatred on our way out.

Peter was absent for the majority of Mass Media, so I sat at one of the computers and edited the yearbook pages I was responsible for, tweaking the arrangement of the photos, rewriting the captions and stories that correlated with the page. In the last ten minutes, Peter walked in with a pass. He entered somewhat shamefully, but there was a hint of pride behind his eyes that he didn't want to show. He handed the office pass to Mrs. Andrews and sat in his usual seat next to me as if nothing had happened.

"That was quite a show," I bantered, raising an eyebrow at him.

He couldn't suppress the laugh he had been holding in and smiled. "Uncle Ben didn't seem to think so."

"They called him up here?" It was my turn to laugh then. I felt bad that Uncle Ben was disappointed in him, but after all Flash had done to Peter and all the students at Midtown, I thought it was a little ridiculous for Peter to be the one in trouble.

"Yeah, at least I'm not suspended though. They gave me community service." He shrugged at his punishment.

"That's not so bad," I assured. I reached into my bag and retrieved his camera, his prized possession. "I believe this belongs to you." I extended my arm for him to take the camera. When he reached for it, I closed my fingers around it and drew my arm away, teasing him to replay the events of an hour ago. His expression was shocked but then grew playful. "I'm joking," I giggled, handing him the vintage camera.

* * *

That afternoon at home, I recapped everything that had happened during the day. Peter's confrontation with Flash was certainly strange enough, but I was growing more and more worried about what had happened with the salad. Why did I keep reviving vegetation? And how was it humanly possible? There was no explanation, but I wanted to test it for myself. Mom didn't keep plants around, so I went outside to our pathetic excuse of a backyard. There was a tiny flowerbed behind our house, and I sat on the ground next to it. I placed a hand on the dirt. The tiny, healthy buds in the bed practically jumped. The longer my hand stayed on the dirt, the bigger the flowers became. I took my hand off of the flower bed, wiping the dirt off. I had the power to grow plants by touching them. Could I do anything else? I looked at the now fully grown buds and motioned for them to get taller without touching them. Surprisingly, it worked. I placed a hand over my mouth in shock. It was all so impossible.  
This time, I stood up. I stretched my arms out and closed my eyes, to embrace what, I don't know. "Come to Mama," I commanded ridiculously. I opened my eyes to the sight of countless vines and plants of all kind appearing out of nowhere and contorting to my imagination's desire. Not only could I grow plants, revive them and make them healthy again, I could summon them at my will and control them as I pleased.

After a few seconds of creating a multitude of shapes with the plants, I dropped my arms and sighed, the mass of vegetation dropping as well. This was insane, or maybe I was insane. I'm not sure, but either way, I had no idea how to handle learning I had this power, much less actually using it. How did this happen?  
I looked back to the giant ball of plant matter. And what was I supposed to do with that? I stared at the vegetation, and it began to shrivel until it disintegrated and disappeared. "Wow," I breathed to myself. Unbelievable.

After dinner, I closed myself in my room to watch TV. I most likely had studying to do, but there was too much on my mind, and I couldn't focus on anything educational. Netflix was the only solution to my stressful problem. What good was it to control plants? How could that possibly be beneficial?

* * *

I had drifted off sometime mid-episode but was awoken uneasily by my frantic mother and the light of police cruisers flashing outside. Mom didn't know what was going on anymore than I did, but she was paranoid. I looked at my phone to see that it was a little after midnight. I jumped out of bed and raised my window to get a better view. The commotion was coming from the Parkers.

"Oh no," my heart sank in my chest. No matter what had happened, who was hurt, the Parkers were like family, and I was devastated. Something was definitely, horribly wrong.

* * *

**I hope you have enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you continue to read the story. Please review to give me your feedback. Do you like it? Does it suck? Let me know, and stick around for more :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Since it took me so long to post Chapter 6, Chapter 7 is now here in less than a week! Woo! The last chapter has gotten 5 awesome reviews by you fantastic people, and so I'm excited to post once more for you. I hope you like where the story is going, and I hope that you continue to be involved in giving me your opinions. Enjoy!**

* * *

Two police officers left the Parkers' house and didn't bother acknowledging me when I walked past them up the porch stairs. The glass of the front door had been shattered, shards scattered across the porch. Had someone tried to break in this way?  
I knocked on the frame of the door and stepped inside before the voice of a strained Aunt May told me to come in. She sat at the dining room table, fighting back tears in her reddened eyes and clutching a hand over her mouth.

"Aunt May-" I began, placing a hand on her shoulder as an attempt to be comforting and searching for answers to the mystery that made me more anxious by the second.

"Go see Peter, Marnie," she interrupted. "He needs someone right now." She barely finished the sentence before losing all the strength she had that kept the tears in and put shaking hands over her eyes.

"Okay," I managed to whisper, on the verge of tears myself. I was still clueless as to what had happened, but since Uncle Ben was nowhere in sight to comfort his wife, my mind assumed the worst - that something horrific had happened to him. I slowly and uneasily climbed the stairs to Peter's room, stairs I had climbed many times to study Physics or just spend time watching Peter over-analyze information he had just discovered, but now the path to his room seemed desolate and damaged.  
I knocked lightly on his barely cracked door, through which I could hear the recorded sound of Uncle Ben's voice and the looming silence of tragedy.

"What?" Peter's broken voice called, clearly exhausted and feeling an unimaginable pain.

I opened the door and stepped through, closing it quietly behind me. Peter sat desperately on the floor in the corner beside the door hinge, holding his cell phone for dear life in one hand while the other covered his eyes hopelessly, just as Aunt May had done downstairs. "Peter, what happened?" My voice was growing shaky, unable to control the blind nervousness I felt.

He looked up at me, finally realizing who had entered the room. His red, watery eyes were swollen from the strain of fighting back so many tears. He opened his mouth to speak, but it took a moment before he could generate sound audible enough to hear. "Marnie, it's all my fault," he choked out. The sight was pitiful, but not nearly as disturbing as his struggling voice. Immediately, I knelt down beside his almost limp-looking body. He was helpless, and there was nothing I could do but try to listen and attempt to bring some kind of comfort. Over and over, he shook his head, crying out continuously: "it's all my fault."

"No, Peter, no. What happened?" I tried. Whatever happened couldn't truly be his fault, could it?

"OSCORP with Dr. Connors...I-I forgot to get Aunt May...Uncle Ben was trying to come find me...he shot him, and now he's dead," the broken fragments of his explanation were indistinguishable. His stutter had returned, more than I had ever heard before. _He shot him._ The sentence resonated in my mind. Someone shot Uncle Ben. Piecing the barely understandable story together, Peter had been working with Dr. Connors, experimenting somehow and had forgotten to pick Aunt May up from work. I don't know what happened between the time Peter stormed out and Uncle Ben went looking for him, but someone _killed _Ben in the street. My eyes were then directed to a crumpled sheet of paper on the floor beside Peter. I reached for it, plopping down out of my uncomfortable squat to sit next to him, and smoothed out the wrinkles. It was a sketch, a wanted sign, that sketched out the man who killed Uncle Ben in cold blood. The face was unfamiliar, but his distinguishable characteristics were printed in bullet points underneath the picture. I examined the paper, taking in his features and memorizing the information. He was in his mid-thirties with long blonde hair and a star tattoo on his left hand. Something had to be done about this man. I didn't know what I could possibly do, and I wasn't one for revenge. But, with all the crime in New York City, the cops wouldn't have time to search for this one guy, to bring justice and the closure Aunt May and Peter deserved. Peter had been repeating the situation, attempting to fully explain what had happened clearly, but each attempt grew less and less comprehensible. Finally, he gave up, exhausted, and whispered one last time: "it's all my fault," before breaking into a sob.

That was when I couldn't control my emotions any further. Uncle Ben, a man who accepted me immediately like a child of his own, was wrongfully murdered, and his family was left to feel the pain - with Peter to carry the weight and guilt on his shoulders, while the killer was running free and careless of his destruction. The clouding tears beginning to fall from my eyes didn't disable my ability to speak. I wrapped by arms around his mourning body, and he did the same, holding me with a strength I didn't know he was capable of, one that was almost inhuman. "It's not your fault," I said clearly. My voice was strong, but I was at a loss for words.

"I yelled at him and just walked out," he chocked, releasing a sob. The pain he felt resonated in me as he buried his chin in my shoulder.

"Shh.." I tried to calm him down gently. "You didn't know. Listen," I push him away so he could see my face, still holding his shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, "do not beat yourself up about this, Pete." My voice was quiet and soft, yet serious. "Please," my voice was pleading now, "you can't do this to yourself. I know you're hurting, but none of this is your fault, none of it. And Aunt May can't see you like this. It would break her heart even more."  
_I can't see you like this either,_ I thought, looking into his swollen, chocolate brown doe eyes. He nodded once, then quickly and erratically several times like he always does, before pulling me back into the awkward, yet comforting, sitting hug and allowing the remaining tears to flow freely.

* * *

I finally stood, and we both wiped our tears. Something had changed between us in that relieving embrace that brought us closer. I checked my phone to see six worried texts and three missed calls from Mom. It was 3:37 AM. I had been at the Parkers' for about three hours. Uncle Ben was gone; nothing would bring him back, but there was a sense of relaxation in Peter's expression that assured me everything would be okay for him. Talking and crying and hugging everything out had soothed the pain temporarily for both of us.

"It's after three, Pete." I couldn't help but release a laugh, not of laughter and happiness, but of exhaustion.

"Go on home, and get some sleep," he sighed, still sitting in the corner. The pain in the eyes had subsided, but he was drained.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm great," he attempted, faking a smile that only made his puffy eyes look stranger.

"I'll see you in four hours." I started to turn away and go home, but something stopped me.

"Thanks, Marnie." He didn't say for what. I didn't technically do anything, but I knew what he meant. I was just there for him, and sometimes that's all people really need.

I paused and looked at him. I'm not sure if it was the shock of the horrible news or the delirium from lack of sleep, but something compelled me to bend down to him and kiss his forehead softly. "Try to rest," I said, standing. "You need the sleep more than I do."  
As I walked down the steps of the now silent house, I realized completely that the Parkers' - Aunt May and Peter - were my family, and whatever feelings I had for Peter were growing unrelentingly. I loved them, and something had to be done about the man who killed Uncle Ben, the man who tore this family apart without remorse.

* * *

**And there you have Chapter 7! Were you expecting Marnie to do that? ;)  
****Don't forget to favorite and follow the story if you like it and review, review, review! Tell me what you think so far. More is on the way. Also, sorry if this sounds annoying, but I need feedback to know if the story is good. So, I would like to get at least 2 reviews per each chapter before I update. Thanks again for reading!**


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